


The Jasmine Breeze

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Le Comte de Monte-Cristo | Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-22
Updated: 2008-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:59:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by dallin-dae</p><p>After the novel, where do Edmond and Haydee go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jasmine Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> Written for vintage

 

 

The Jasmine Breeze

The scent of the jasmine on the night wind was a soft, pleasant aroma, unlike the sickly, cloying scent it produced under the hot sun. 

Haydee took a deep, appreciative breath of the jasmine tinged air and ran her fingertips along the polished wood and delicate paint of the window frame she looked out from. 

India was blissfully unlike France, in almost every respect. It was dark, hot and exotic, full of life and a thousand and one mysteries. It was a new world, a place where the Count would have had no meaning , even if he had still walked in this world. 

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. 

Hands closed in over the curves of her shoulders, nearly skin to skin, denied only by the delicate chiffon of the exquisite dress that Haydee still could not shake the feeling wore her. 

"What amuses you then my dearest?" 

"Nothing sir. Only the beauty of this night." Still she bows her head respectfully, and like he does a hundred times now, he catches her chin and stops her. 

"The beauty of the night? You have seen it here for a hundred and one days now. It does not bore you?"

Haydee turned and caught his hand in hers, running her thumb over the short, rough nails and calloused pads. Whatever luxury might surround him now, nothing will ever undo those calluses. They are no scar though, they are bitterly earned trophies which she feels a fierce pride in him for.

"But I don't tire of it Edmond." She savoured the name, as intensely intimate as it will always be to her, even though it is simply his name for all and sundry to use and abuse. The name he gives everywhere these days. But she sees him savour it too, when he imparts it casually to a new acquaintance. His lilt on the Edmond, and the satisfaction in the flatness of the Dantes. 

"You tire of very little do you not my love?" 

She linked their fingers, marvelling at the contrast of the light and the dark, so different and yet so perfectly lovely when laid together. It reminded her of herself, her whole body laid along his on the sheets of their bed, breathing in the night jasmine. 

"You are wrong my own love. I have tired of many things in my life." She raised his hand to her mouth, and placed a brush of a kiss to the worn knuckles, allowing them to linger there a while, allowing him to feel the brush of her breath on his skin. "But it is true enough to say that there are some things which I will never tire of."

His other hand slipped to her waist, turning her round away from the cool night air and the dark roll of the landscape. The hands they had clasped already were raised and he drew her back into the darkened room, leading her around in a silent dance on the polished marble floor. 

"You don't feel you will bore of it here in the Indies then?" he breathed into her ear, face pressed into her hair. 

"The Indies are a most delightful place sir," she murmured as he spun her around, their feet brushing the floor as though they were gliding on cloud. 

"They are indeed. And it is the Indies that hold your interest?" 

She stopped in the middle of their dance, her hands tightening on him and holding him in place. He faltered, not expecting such forcefulness from her. She did not relent though, gazing up at him, her hands bearing down tightly on him even as his lay on her with the most exquisite gentleness. 

"I believe I have said sir, that I would never leave the Indies."

A smile quirked in the corner of his mouth. 

"I don't recall you saying any such words my dearest, however fine this land may be."

"I don't recall that we were talking about land sir."

He threw back his head and laughed, hand arms joining around her waist and lifting her up, spinning her round, silk and chiffon flowing around her like caressing leaves around in an autumn breeze. She felt the scent of the jasmine swirl with her, surrounding her as though she were its source. 

"Well, it is an old land. I wondered perhaps if it were too ancient for a young one such as yourself to find any great contentment in."

Haydee's arms linked around the back of his neck, fingers playing with the fine, soft hair at the base of his skull.

"An old land which spins many old stories," she murmured into his hair and he slowly turned them now, her feet still not touching the floor, lifted above the marble. "Stories which have already been answered."

"Isn't that the point of a fine story through my love? That it is told many times, and can never be answered enough?"

"If we are talking stories then yes indeed. But even with the tallest tales, once the answer, the ending, has been found it will always be the same."

Carefully he replaces her to her feet, although his arms do not relinquish her, make no thought to. In the darkness it seemed as though very little else existed that did not occupy the immediate space around them, even though the night was filled with a thousand and one cries of nature and the wild just outside their window. 

"Always?" 

Haydee leaned forward, her mouth pressing to where the curve of his jaw and the stretch of his neck met, the kiss not even a true kiss, more only a faint caress of the lips.

"Always the same Edmond."

His hand in hers he led her back over to the lighter square of the open window, curving his body around hers as though to both protect her and also to lose himself in her. She was happy to allow him both, closing her eyes tightly and relishing the closeness of their selves alone. 

"So, you've become quite attached to the Indies then?"

Haydee took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The cool air full of rich spice, the rawness of some plants, and the sweetness of others. Though the darkness was everywhere, in it still she could, by grace of the moonlight, pick out every shadow that hinted at the countless exotic mysteries that this land guarded jealously. 

Drawing back on hand she placed her palm to his rough cheek. 

"Indeed, for all I desire can be found within its borders."

 


End file.
